It Could Have Been Me

Sometimes people ask, why this cause? How did you get involved? For many of us, there is a moment when a statistic stops being just a number.

We can tell you that an estimated 15,000 women are sex trafficked in Colorado each year, and that the true number is believed to be much higher because so much trafficking goes unreported.

We can tell you that Colorado has the 10th highest number of human trafficking reports in the nation, receives approximately 10 trafficking reports per 100,000 people, and ranks only 25th in the nation for comprehensive services.

Those numbers matter, but that’s not the moment. At some point, you hear a story. Not just any story. You hear someone’s actual lived experience. The details of a life.

You hear about the single mom whose life was devastated by a hurricane. Her home was gone. Her job was gone. A man offered her a place to stay when she had nowhere else to go. What looked like help slowly became coercion, exploitation and trafficking.

Or the young woman who grew up in a difficult home and believed a boyfriend when he promised to help her get away and together they would go fulfill her dreams. He separated her from her family and friends, created a situation he controlled, and when she was completely dependent on him, then the man she thought loved her became her trafficker.

Or perhaps it’s the story of a teen who got high at a party in high school and soon was in over her head in addiction. She became a young woman battling dependency whose vulnerability was used against her until she found herself being prostituted and controlled by a pimp.

And suddenly, it’s a story you relate to. It has a few details that feel like yours. This thing you didn’t understand, that seemed like a far off problem, is suddenly not something that happens to other people. It’s when you realize:

It could have been me.
It could have been my sister.
It could have been my daughter.

That's the moment statistics become personal. When compassion moves to action.

And it's why we go. Women, created with value and purpose, are out there. 

Safe Places for Women goes onto the streets and into places of exploitation to build relationships with women who may or may not yet be ready or able to leave. We offer practical help, genuine relationship and the hope of Jesus.

And when a woman does leave, we are thrilled to offer her a home as she transitions into a new way of living, a life with healing, a life that is filled with many beautiful choices. Because leaving is not the end of her story. In many ways, it is the beginning of an incredibly vulnerable season of rebuilding.

Recovery looks like safe housing, Jesus, worship, and therapy. Together, we’re replacing identification documents, finding a job, and learning to budget. She’s saving for a car. We’re sitting around a dinner table as a family, going to church, and building healthy friendships. She’s discovering community and slowly learning that her past does not determine her future.

Our transitional home provides long-term housing and support for women doing that hard work. But there are still far more women who need help than we currently have room to serve.

Behind every statistic is a woman with a name, a story and a life worth fighting for.

And once it becomes personal, how could I ever walk away?